Posts

Tuesday, August 6, 2013

On my birthday…

Growing up, one thing my parents did EXCEPTIONALLY well at… was
birthdays. My dad loves giving people
gifts, and my mother loves giving people attention. That combination led to some of the best
birthdays and birthday parties the world has ever known.

For my fifth birthday, we did a pizza fest at Rocky Rococco’s
– and it was awesome. For my seventh
birthday, we went to Chucky Cheese – and it was amazing. For my tenth birthday, we went to the YMCA. For at least four of my birthdays, my parents
threw me a surprise birthday party. My
childhood friend Mandy (she is still my friend today) likes to joke that my
parents threw me a surprise birthday party just about every single year.

Then, something terrible happened. I started dating my ex-husband around age
twenty, and he did not believe in birthdays.
If I listed the top five worst days of my life, they would easily
be: 3) my 23rd birthday, 2)
my 22nd birthday and 1) my 21st birthday. By the time I got to my 24th
birthday, I gave up on celebrating my birthday altogether. I stopped wishing for cakes. I stopped hoping for presents. I stopped wishing for breakfast in bed,
flowers, attention, or anything else.

Not long after my 25th birthday – I got divorced. You would think that I ran around and painted
the town red after years of crappy birthdays.
Instead, I told no one it was my birthday and spent the entire day alone. I did the same thing for my 26th birthday.

Several months after my 26th birthday, I started
dating my husband Del. For my 27th birthday, Del asked what I wanted, and I told him I did not want anything. He
refused to do what I wanted. Instead,
even though he had very little money, he got me ice cream cupcakes and
wine. He then proceeded to shower me
with love and attention.

He asked me what I wanted for my 28th birthday, and
I told him I wanted nothing. Then a few
minutes later I told him one or two things I wanted. He asked if I told anyone it was my birthday,
and I told him “No” and that “I don’t want anyone to know.”

The altogether sad reality is that years of abuse takes
longer to break then you think it will.
When I married Del, I thought the cycle was broken and a shower of new
love and light would rain down upon me.
Instead, I am finding that the cycle is gradually cracking.

Today, I told two co-workers that I love dearly that it was
by birthday tomorrow. Tomorrow I will be
28. I wasn’t going to tell anyone. However, someone at work brought in the exact
same ice cream cupcakes Del got me for birthday last year. If that wasn’t a sign from God to share what
is supposed to be a day of joy, I don’t know what it.

I write this blog as my (passive aggressive?) way of telling
people that it is my birthday. I
probably can’t tell you in person, because I will most likely start
crying. I don’t want gifts, because I
haven’t really coped enough with the past to accept gifts very well.

Tomorrow is my birthday.
I am not old, but it is the first birthday that I feel older. College sports players are all younger than
me. Super Bowl winners are younger than
me. I have seen some birthdays come and
go. As much as I can be, I am ready for
this birthday.

Bring it on God.
Bring it on world. Bring it on
family and friends. I don’t know what I
want, other than to say, “Hey, it is my birthday tomorrow.”